Walkman

Shisa Poet

You left me four poetry
collections. Who am I
supposed to read Merwin with
over all that hazelnut coffee?

You left me last week
by the harbour because I am hard
to handle sometimes, not a soft pear
as they say in Portuguese.

You left me a prisoner
in your striped shirt and your voice
still puts a hand inside. My ticket
for June is non-refundable.

You left me instructions
never to call. My voice sings
like a lark to you - too far from earth.
You fold cormorant wings and dive.

You left me this Sony Walkman
and I refuse to listen
to the Robert Frost tape. Scratchy
and monotonous, his voice is only human.
_______